


A Memory of Falling Stars

by Ghostline



Series: Ghost of a Memory [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Astronaut AU, Grief/Mourning, Loss, M/M, Post-Canon, Space AU, astronaut kageyama, final haikyuu quest mention, space disaster
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2018-04-12 23:16:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4498428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostline/pseuds/Ghostline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On that day, when the sprinklers and alarms failed, Kageyama was not there to wake him up and guide him from the dorm. On that day, in that room, at that window, coughing from smoke with pajamas nearly igniting from the blaze, Hinata fell from the sky not as a phoenix, but as Icarus: flailing, afraid, and alone. </p><p>And Kageyama was not there.<br/>_____________________</p><p>This is a short story about loss and aftermath. About soaring, about falling, about those who have traveled with you along the way, and about those who will be there to catch you in the end. </p><p>Oh, and there's space and astronauts and somesuch too. At least a little bit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which We Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On that day, when the sprinklers and alarms failed, Kageyama was not there to wake him up and guide him from the dorm. On that day, in that room, at that window, coughing from smoke with pajamas nearly igniting from the blaze, Hinata fell from the sky not as a phoenix, but as Icarus: flailing, afraid, and alone. 
> 
> And Kageyama was not there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Musical suggestion while reading this chapter:  
> Flames by VAST - Visual Audio Sensory Theatre  
> [listenonrepeat](https://listenonrepeat.com/?v=ichCCegTbnA&s=6&e=292#Flames%2C_Vast)  
> [youtube](https://youtu.be/ichCCegTbnA?t=6s)
> 
> Or, for those who prefer music without vocals while reading:
> 
> The Road by Nick Cave & Warren Ellis - The Road (Original film score)  
> [listenonrepeat](http://listenonrepeat.com/watch/?v=4gT6AnrDwew)  
> [youtube](https://youtu.be/4gT6AnrDwew)

_Phoenix._ When he dreams of Hinata, Shouyou is like a phoenix, the essence of vitality, wings blazing. The sun itself is in his hair, and his eyes are molten gold, young and glimmering, the way they used to shine after scoring one of their freak quicks.  The heat of him, his smile, his delighted unrestrained laughter, his arms, wings and body as he embraces Kageyama, melt him as no mortal flame ever could. Hinata is incandescent, and as Kageyama pulls him tightly to his chest, swearing never to let go (not again, not ever), he can smell the cinnamon-apple on his hair, on his skin. It’s the scent of October. It's the taste of kisses beneath the dancing fireflies on the riverbank. And it’s never enough. No matter how vivid, these golden dreams are never enough for him.

They never will be.

* * *

When he wakes, when he is curled tight around himself in his bed, sobbing soft and hopeless and silent, he is all too aware Hinata was never a phoenix. After all, when they cremated him, Shouyou never rose from his ashes. 

Phoenixes are supposed to be able to fly. On the court, Hinata could soar, higher than anyone, fearless, dauntless, invincible. Kageyama knows this. Hinata can fly. He’s seen it.

But he didn't fly, on that day.

On that day, when the sprinklers and alarms failed, Kageyama was not there to wake him up and guide him from the dorm. On that day, in that room, at that window, coughing from smoke with pajamas nearly igniting from the blaze, Hinata fell from the sky not as a phoenix, but as Icarus: flailing, afraid, and alone. 

And Kageyama was not there. 

On that day, at that time, it would still be hours before he left the highway and pulled up to his parent’s home. Hours before he would see his mother running from the house to embrace him, before he was close enough to see her tears were not those of joy, or welcoming (and his chest turns to ice, his legs buckling from under him, as their golden future withers into nothing). 

Kageyama was not there, that day.

But in his mind’s eye, in the trauma nightmares which haunted his sleep for years after, he watches from the mountain path leading to the torched dorm tower, the final fall slow and inevitable. Embers trail lazily in Hinata's wake as he soars one final time. And always, always, Hinata turns his head mid-fall, their gazes locking, and his eyes are wide and terrified. It’s the exact moment Hinata realizes Kageyama won’t be there to catch him. In that dazed pale yellow of his eyes is the horrific comprehension that they will never find their way to the top of the world, that their dream, and all that they are, or ever could be, is dead before it barely had a chance to begin.

_('Kageyama?')_

And then the moment is over. Hinata plunges toward the ground, and Kageyama is lunging from his bed even before he wakes, crying Shouyou’s name as he dives to catch him.

When he is lucid again, blinking tears from his eyes, his arms are always empty. 

* * *

At the funeral, all he can see is the nightmare, the fear and shock in Hinata's eyes, and he's shaking, shaking, throughout. He doesn't even last through the entire service before guilt and loss rise like a sickness in his stomach, and he flees before he breaks down completely.

Throughout the mourning that follows, the somber days and months of everyone treating him with kids gloves, he still feels so very fragile, and nearly every other night Hinata is burning, plummeting in the dark.

Therapy helps, some, though the idea of "letting go" still makes him ill. He isn't ready. Not yet. Though he does find himself sleeping better.

Then the years are gone in flash, graduation arriving with the spring. His head hurts throughout the ceremony. There's something wrong with the world, someone missing, and yet the day is filled with laughter and cherry blossoms. It isn't fair. It isn't _fair._

That night, he watches Hinata fall again.

 

More years fly past. An unexpected invitation from an old friend leads to an even more unexpected job offer. Intense training begins.

And even after all this time the trauma nightmares are never truly gone. When they do hit him out of the blue, it’s almost reassuring to him now that even after all this time, after all that he’s been through, that reflexive jerking is still there, that instinct to dive back more than a decade to catch Hinata Shouyou. Against all logic and reason, a part of him is still trying to save Shouyou.

A part of him always will.

* * *

 

Kageyama is breathing easier now. The golden dreams, those of being with Hinata, holding him, are usually better than those of the fall, but lately, all they do is leave him empty and longing and nostalgic. More raw than usual.

_It’s because of the time of year. It’s almost the anniversary._

Ah. That would do it.

He reaches for his bedside table and lifts the silver locket to his chest. Its weight comforts him, the feel of the indents shaping its volleyball molding. Inside, he knows he’ll find the picture Yamaguchi covertly took of them from the dawn of their last third year training camp: both of them fast asleep on their futon and dead to the world. Hinata is cuddled close against him, Kagayama embracing him snug and tight, miserly, as if protecting the most precious of treasures. 

The locket opens with a dull “click”, and Kageyama reverently lifts from it the small, banded lock of orange hair. The faint scent of cinnamon-apple draws a sad, tired smile from his lips. His hair is just as soft as he remembers, when he used to grip it after Hinata pissed him off. Or when he tousled it fondly as they shared meat buns together on their way home. Or when he twined his fingers through it gently while Hinata slept softly against his chest.

“I’m going to have to miss this year, dumbass,” he whispers in the dark, “but try not to hold it against me. I’m not in charge of the schedule." Kageyama reaches up with his other hand, as if to grip something beyond the ceiling, higher than the sky, higher than the stars. "I always said we’d soar to the top of the world. Even if we never meant it this literally, I think you’ll cut me some slack, for this. You wanted to see the view from the top? Something few have ever seen with their own eyes? We’re going to have the best seats in the house.”

With a faint click, the last memento of Hinata Shouyou is again tucked safe away in its volleyball locket.

Kageyama takes one deep, final breath, and pivots to sit on his bed, checking the clock. Today, of all days, he can’t afford to be late. 

T-minus 6 hours. 

_Today, we soar._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some things need to be broken, nearly beyond repair, for mending to manifest at its most meaningful and transcendent.


	2. In Which We Soar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -“Go for main engine start...10, 9, 8...”-
> 
> “Wait for it...” amusement tints Daichi’s voice. 
> 
> What...?
> 
> He can just make out Noya’s voice on the coms over the countdown and the ominous, growing rumble of massive engines waking:
> 
> “Roarrrrrringgggg...” 
> 
> -“...2...1...ignition.”-
> 
> “THUNDERRRRRRR!!” 
> 
> ______________
> 
> Because of course he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Musical suggestion while reading this chapter:  
> The State We're In by The Pineapple Thief - Someone Here is Missing  
> [listenonrepeat](https://www.listenonrepeat.com/watch?v=3uhPDtyG0Gk)  
> [youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3uhPDtyG0Gk)
> 
> Or, for those who prefer no vocals while reading, or a more pensive theme:
> 
> Disposition by Tool - Lateralus  
> [listenonrepeat](https://www.listenonrepeat.com/watch?v=LozljN-3fWI)  
> [youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LozljN-3fWI)

The air is crisp and clear at the pad, and Sawamura Daichi raises an eyebrow at his approach, helmet tucked beneath one imposing arm. “Oh good, you’re here. We almost left without you.”

As if that would happen.

“I’m not that late. Though apparently I’m not the only one. Where’s No–“

And then there’s an arm flung around his neck, a weight dragging him several feet closer to the ground, and knuckles drilling into his skull.

“THERE he is! Nervous about your first launch? It’s a bumpy ride, but you can’t BEAT that rush! And that first time you break atmo and feel gravity pull away? I almost wish it was my first time all over again!”

“No-Noya-senpai! Please!” And to his relief, Nishinoya stops the noogies, and releases the headlock. When Kageyama regains his balance (and dignity), Noya’s eyes are almost stars themselves, watering ever slightly.

“‘Senpai!’ You don’t know how LONG it’s been since anyone’s called me that! Ahhh!” 

And while Noya sways in the memories of when others looked up to him, Daichi is shaking his head, amused.

“Never thought I’d see the day. If you had told me THIS would be in our future back in high school...”

He trails off, but he’s absolutely right. This, this right here, is absolutely ridiculous, the result of someone’s bad comedy sketch: Karasuno volleyball team...in space!

Kageyama chuckles as Daichi looks upon his comrades fondly. “Out of everyone, I would have thought Tsukishima would be the most likely to make his way into space, not you two.”

But Kageyama is shaking his head. “Would never have happened. Especially when he learned he had a real opportunity to live his dream, despite all the movies spelling out why it’s a terrible idea.”

“Pretty sure those only encouraged him, ” Noya grins at his side. “At least when we’re fighting for our lives against the raptor hordes, we’ll know who to blame. But yeah, Kageyama’s right. Tsukki was never one for space. Oikawa though...did you know he contacted me after our first mission? I don’t even know how he got my number! Just bam, out of the blue, he was practically INTERROGATING me about what it was like and if I had seen anything strange up there and how much it would cost for a vacation on the JSS–“

“He’s not HERE is he?” Kageyama’s eyes are wide with horror.

“Oh god no, we would have been briefed on that long before. Even on a model’s income, I think he’d balk at that kind of money. I could see him considering a career change though...”

“It was hard enough being on the same team as him. Being cooped up for weeks or months with no escape? I might consider spacing myself...”

“Ahh...I missed this,” Noya sighs, linking his hands behind his head, arms raised and carefree, enjoying the banter. “That and playing volleyball with both of you. We ARE taking one up, right?” Noya’s grin is met with twin deadpan stares from his colleagues.

“Daichi told me how your first trip went. We aren't going to repeat that. Good thing Tanaka didn’t follow in your footsteps, he would have spiked the thing into ALL the control panels, not just one.”

Noya fakes a sulk. “Guess he’s better off with the Yakuza than in space, I guess...”

“The Yaku– Wait, really? Noya? Noya!” But Nishinoya is already walking towards the elevator, his back to his sputtering kouhai. 

“I’ll just head up and start preflight checks! Better get suited up!”

Kageyama turns to Daichi with a wide-eyed, questioning stare. "Oh, he's with the Yakuza all right." And Daichi can only hold the deadpan for a few seconds before breaking into a deep belly laugh. "But only on Friday nights, channel 29. You've never watched Irredeemable?"

Kageyama blinks. "Acting? Tanaka?"

"He's actually quite good. Wouldn't be surprised if they tapped him for a movie role. He's mastered even  _more_ ridiculous faces, if you can believe it. "

He lets out a sigh. Of  _course._ All that drama and shirt-waving. He should have seen that coming.

And like a sudden shadow of clouds over the sun, Daichi’s face turns serious. “And it seems he’s not the only actor among us.” It’s the same no-nonsense look before he was shoved from the gym many many years ago, a club application form stuck to his head and a redhead dumbass gawking at his side. _Commander_ Sawamura slings an arm, friendly, around Kageyama’s shoulders, and leads him slightly away from the elevator and the rest of the personnel. 

“Suga told me about the drinks you two shared last week..." His tone is upbeat and overly cheerful, and Kageyama is _terrified_. "He told me you’re way worse off than you make it seem, that somehow you’ve been faking it well enough to pass the psychology screenings.”

He makes to protest, but Daichi’s dead stare freezes that lie in his throat.

“You may have been drunk...but I know those feelings ran––run––deep. That’s not something that you hang onto that strongly, for that long, without it changing you. Messing with you. He tells me you’ve resolved to let go, but we both know that’s not easy. At all. And you’re going to be facing that knot of emotions up _there_ ," leaning in close, pointing upward for emphasis, "where _any_ dumbass mistake could cost us all our lives.”

He pats Kageyama affectionately, but his arm tightens, leans steel-heavy across his shoulders.

“Now, if Suga was on this mission, instead of at Mission Control on the other side of our coms, you would not be here right now. You would not have a seat on that shuttle now, or in the foreseeable future. The fact that you’re here, now, and not watching the countdown on a monitor, is only because I’ve seen your focus in action, and trust it, and you, to _keep_ that focus, despite what you feel about the past, about Hinata, despite how you feel about yourself. I fully expect you to value _your_ life, and even above that, the lives of this crew, both those here, and those already up there. Now...there aren’t going to be any accidents, problems, or morose lapses in concentration today, or any time before we’re earthside again, am I right?”

Kageyama gulps, and nods. Daichi’s smile springs upon his face wide and all too sudden. “Of course I’m right! Good. Glad we had this little chat. Now, suit up, and we’ll see you in the cockpit.”

It takes a minute or two for Kageyama’s heart to stop its thudding. 

Later, as he fastens the straps and fastenings on the bulky orange launch suit, he can’t bring it upon himself to feel sore toward Suga for confiding in his husband. It was the right call. Or as right as it could be, without ejecting Kageyama from the mission entirely. 

He can’t remember the entirety of that night, how many drinks he had or what he did or said to clue Suga in that something was off, but then Suga has always been one perceptive bastard. He would have made a great therapist. Or detective, for that matter.

Kageyama blinks. The locket––Hinata’s locket––is suddenly there, in his hand, his thumb absentmindedly tracing the volleyball engravings. Can he really let go?

_Is that really okay, Shouyou?_

He holds it close, breathes in. From the closed locket, the faintest scent of cinnamon...

* * *

 

“This...all of this...is about Shouyou, isn’t it.” 

It’s not a question, but Kageyama’s silence (and tightened grip on his glass) provides the answer anyway. He knows his head is too sloshy to make up anything convincing. He’s cornered, and Suga leaves him nowhere to run. 

Sugawara Koushi places his hand on his friend’s shoulder, gently. “Tobio...we all loved Shouyou, each in our own way. And we all miss him. But it’s been 12 years now. I know this isn’t what you want to hear...but you can't keep clinging to his memory like this. It isn’t healthy.”

And Kageyama’s fists tighten and release, tighten and release, leaving marks where his nails press firm into his skin. He wants to feel angry. No–-furious. He wants to push Suga away for touching this open wound. He wants to shove him into a wall, scream at him, for getting everything he ever desired, for finding that elusive love so very early and keeping it, he wants to punch that smile from the former setter's face because he's  _whole_ and  _happy_  and it's just not goddamned _fair!_

His jaw is tight, lips almost curled into a snarl, arms tensed...and then he deflates.

Despising someone for their happiness isn’t fair either. That's not what Hinata would want. And ultimately, Suga has a point. 

He’s known it for years, that holding on like this is only keeping the wound open. His 20’s are nearly behind him. And Hinata will forever be a teenager on the cusp of adulthood, frozen in photos and memorials. With each year he gets further and further away, and nothing can ever close the distance stretching between them. This isn’t making peace. This isn’t moving on. But then that's been the whole problem. He doesn’t want to let go, he doesn’t want to stop hurting or mourning, because if he does he’ll be turning his back on Hinata again. 

_And in the end, that killed you. I wasn’t there when you needed me most._

Even as the too-familiar line of thinking passes through his head, he can already hear his therapist contradicting him, clearly laying out why he’s mistaken, talking about things like survivor’s guilt and dissecting his self-blame, taking a logical axe to the walls Kageyama has spent so much time building up around him. There are CBT exercises at the ready, if he chooses to use them, drilled into his head over years. He knows his thinking is twisted, flawed, and, if he can’t break from it, harmful. But when Kageyama is this drunk, he tends to wear his guilt like a king’s cloak, close and comforting in its accusations.

Suga seems to sense this, but then Suga always had an uncanny ability to know what he is thinking.

“He wouldn’t have wanted this, you know. For you to end up here, pining after him, miserable after all this time. He never wanted to see you in pain.” He smiles gently. “Despite all the balls he served directly into the back of your head.” 

That drew forth a chuckle, and with a lopsided grin Kageyama takes another sip. “He always seemed to have impeccable aim when it came to his misses, didn’t he?”

And like that, the tension is gone, and the two are reminiscing about the legends and deeds of Hinata Shouyou, Karasuno’s Icarus, flying higher than anyone dared to imagine. They remember the nervousness he never seemed to be able to shake before their matches (until the reassurance of Kagayama’s arms became the cure), the awed crow-sounds he made when entering new gyms, or discovering new opponents. They recall nationals, the few matches they managed to seize before being knocked from the bracket. They speak of haunted training camps, and Nekoma, and team barbecues, and the golden summers of their lives. They talk and drink, and remember, and both of them are caught between laughter and tears and overcast smiles. 

And Kageyama finally sighs, defeated. “He wouldn’t have stood to see me like this, would he?” 

Suga’s arm is around his friend's shoulder, and he squeezes, affectionately. “Hinata would have tackled the daylights out of you and yelled at you until you snapped out of it, and you know it.” 

“He actually did that, once. Do you remember our first year? That first loss to Oikawa? ‘Don’t make it sound like tossing to me was a mistake.’ Those were his words. Hinata was never one for regrets...” He thinks on that in silence for a minute or two. “How can I face him if I live my life clinging to the very thing he hated?” 

He falls back into silence, swirling the beer in his glass, forehead creased. “I’ve got to let go, don’t I?”

And Suga nods, silent, knowing the weight of this decision. His eyes are on the volleyball locket Kageyama has been fiddling with throughout the evening, now laying flat near the beer glass. Kageyama lifts it gently. 

“The next launch. The next spacewalk. If I’m going to let him go, Suga, it won’t be here, earthbound. Hinata was meant to soar higher than any of us. ”

Suga answers his friend’s sad smile with his own. “I think that’s the perfect way to honor his memory.”

And the two comrades lift their nearly-empty glasses in a silent toast:

To the friendships we forged, and the love we found. To friends fallen, but never forgotten. 

To Hinata Shouyou.

* * *

 

-“Hinomaru T-minus 2 minutes and counting...”-

Hinomaru: The Circle of the Sun. It's a good name.

A small nudge on knee and Kageyama looks up, blinks at Commander Sawamura. Daichi frowns, taps once on his closed helmet. Kageyama quickly lowers and locks his visor, listening to the chatter and final checks.

-“One minute. Closing liquid oxygen and hydrogen drain valves. Standing by for handoff to Hinomaru computers.”-

This is it. Despite the training and mock launches, he can feel himself sweating, adrenaline flooding his body. Lights and buttons and readouts blink green and ready.

-“Handoff confirmed. T-minus 31 seconds.”-

He glares out the window at the cloud-dusted cerulean sky, mustering courage, willing his heart to slow. No dice.

-"Ground launch sequencer is go for auto sequence start. Flight crew, standby for imminent launch."-

No turning back. No more running. No more regrets.

-“20.”-

-“Firing chain is armed.”-

-“15. All systems green.”-

Kageyama grips the chair. 

-“Go for main engine start...10, 9, 8...”-

"Wait for it...” amusement tints Daichi’s voice.

What...?

He can just make out Noya’s voice on the coms over the countdown and the ominous, growing rumble of massive engines waking: 

“Roarrrrrringgggg...” 

-“...2...1...ignition”-

“THUNDERRRRRRR!!” 

Even as the engines drown out everything, Kageyama can hear the squeaking of rubbered soles. In his mind's eye he sees Hinata shift from run to crouch, arms back, calves and thighs tensed and coiled, head uplifted, eyes focused...and  _liftoff..._

Then the weight of the world is pressing into his chest and his stomach drops away. Everything is shaking and shuddering and Noya is cackling like a madman, like a kid on the best roller coaster ride ever.

They are soaring past the cloud line, higher and higher, piercing the sky.

_To the top of the world..._

_Shouyou...you should have been here....you should have seen this...._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Found an amazing gif (from the Haikyuu!! intro) that captures the exact sequence at the end of Kageyama seeing [Hinata leaping up in slow motion](http://ghostline.tumblr.com/post/137009258884) just as the rocket takes off!


	3. In Which We Drift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daichi swings the station hatch open, revealing a tall smirking man with an awful case of bed hair wearing a blood-red jacket, arms crossed. Beside him floats a much shorter figure with close cut light brown hair. Nekoma’s former libero.
> 
> Commander Suwamura drifts into the JSS, stoic as he meets Kuroo’s smirk head on. They stand there, arms crossed, neither backing down.
> 
> “Captain.”
> 
> “Captain.”
> 
> And then Daichi’s facade vanishes and he’s smiling, the two former rivals patting each other on the back as they pull each other into a hug.  
> ______________________________________
> 
> A reunion of cats and crows, lost bets on Kageyama's constitution, and the all-important difference between "Rolling Thunder" and "Roaring Thunder."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Musical suggestion while reading this chapter:  
> Exhibit 13 by Blue Man Group  
> [listenonrepeat](https://www.listenonrepeat.com/watch?v=9KtIV0Xf5jQ)  
> [youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9KtIV0Xf5jQ)
> 
> Milky Way (Explore) by Ben Prunty – FTL Soundtrack  
> [listenonrepeat](https://www.listenonrepeat.com/watch?v=0Onn2MQS0J4)  
> [youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Onn2MQS0J4)

8 1/2 minutes of absolute terror later the main engines cease, and in less than a second 3-Gs of acceleration cut to 0. Kageyama gasps, chest suddenly free of the sumo wrestlers previously lounging upon him, and his arms (still very shaky) drift from their armrests. He’s weightless!

 _–Hinomaru, Tsukuba, confirm main engine cutoff and separation–_ the voice of Sugawara Koushi, manning CAPCOM at Tsukuba Mission Control, crackles over the comms.

“Copy, Tsukuba. Main engines cut. External tank separation confirmed. Over.”

– _Copy that. Mark 30 minutes until apogee and next firing maneuver onto JSS rendezvous trajectory– *click* –How’d our new space crow fare?–_

Commander Sawamura twists in his seat as Noya reclines all the way back, arms folded behind his head (or as much as possible, with the oxygen feeds still in place). They both peer at their comrade curiously.

“Shaken. Maybe even a little stirred, given how pale he looks,” Daichi reports, smiling. Noya, still upside-down, whoops and slugs Kageyama awkwardly on the leg.

“I’m in one piece, Tsukuba–” Daichi motions silently that they’re on private comms, “–er, Suga. Somehow.”

_–Glad to hear it. You just earned your wings, Kageyama!–_

Adrenaline is still flooding his system. He’s almost proud of himself for not freaking out (worse) throughout that whole nightmare. Suga had come online when Launch Control transferred to Tsukuba Mission Control just past liftoff, and hearing his friend over the comms, his calm, collected back-and-forth with Daichi, gave him something familiar and calming to focus on. Well, as calming as something could be, when you’re hurtling skyward many times faster than the speed of sound, cursing in your head non-stop. Mr. Refreshing indeed.

“As we’re using the expedited docking protocols, we will rendezvous with the JSS in around 6 hours or so. In the meantime...welcome to space, Kageyama. Oh, and Noya,” He points back toward their brand new space crow. “No barf bag. Remember to pay up, once we’re planetside again.”

“Aw, man!” He smirks toward Kageyama, ‘And I was so looking forward to you painting the inside of your visor.” 

“Go to hell, Noya.”

“Is that _any_ way to talk to your senpai!” He clasps a hand to his chest, shocked.

Kageyama rolls his eyes. “Go to hell...Noya-senpai?”

“Mmmm...better. I just MIGHT share some of my astronaut ice cream with you, if you keep it up.”

Daichi is making a disgusted face as he starts pre-orbit checks. “I can’t understand what you see in that crap. It tastes like dust.”

“Hey! One...it’s historical. Two...it’s neopolitan.  Three...it’s magical. Q.E.D.”

_–That doesn’t even make sense, Noya–_

“Uh uh! No ice cream for you either, Suga.”

“Oh...Noya...Noya- _senpai..._ I was meaning to ask, back there, during takeoff...isn’t it supposed to be ‘Rolling Thunder’?”

Noya and Daichi exchange a look before fixing him with perplexed stares, as if he had sprouted an extra head. Even Suga is making a rather judgmental “hmmm...” over the comms.

Noya speaks slowly, as if attempting to explain the most obvious thing in the world, “‘Rolling Thunder’ is for volleyball. ‘Roaring Thunder’ is for rocket launches.” Daichi nods, thumb motioning toward his shorter colleague for emphasis, “Try to keep up, Kageyama.” They both roll their eyes and resume system checks, leaving Kageyama open-mouthed and speechless. 

* * *

 

Several hours into orbit, after a quick pivot to inspect the ventral side of the shuttle with JSS cameras, they are docked with Japan’s first state of the art space station. 

Daichi swings the station hatch open, revealing a tall smirking man with an awful case of bed hair wearing a blood-red jacket, arms crossed. Beside him floats a much shorter figure with close cut light brown hair. Nekoma’s former libero.

Commander Suwamura drifts into the JSS, stoic as he meets Kuroo’s smirk head on. They stand there, arms crossed, neither backing down.

“Captain.”

“Captain.”

And then Daichi’s facade vanishes and he’s smiling, the two former rivals patting each other on the back as they pull each other into a hug. 

Yuku grins at Noya. “How’d he do?” 

Noya sighs, exasperated. “Regal, as always. Yeah, yeah, I’ll pay up planet side.”

Again? “This is getting irritating. Exactly how many people bet against me?” 

Suga’s voice crackles over the comms, –Let’s just say I’m making the second collection round in Mission Control now. Don’t worry, we’ll buy you a curry bun or something on your return.–

“How magnanimous.”

Daichi disengages and gestures to his comrades. “Flight Engineer Kuroo Tetsurou, Payload Commander Yaku Morisuke, this is Pilot Nishinoya Yuu and Mission Specialist Kageyama Tobio.” 

Of course, no formal introductions are really necessary. Kageyama has been to Kuroo and Kenma’s home many times over the years and was best man at their wedding. He hasn’t seen Yaku since high school, though he’s heard enough stories from Lev to not feel as if he’s a complete stranger.

Nekoma and Karasuno shake hands. It feels so very odd, no volleyball net in sight and so many members missing.

The next few hours are filled with transferring cargo and personal belongings and getting situated in their quarters. It feels good to get the flight suit off and don normal clothing again. He wears a straight black T-shirt, similar to Daichi’s. Noya is of course sporting one of his usuals, a white shirt with “Veteran of One-Thousand Launches” down the back. Their reprieve is followed by a tour of the rest of the JSS. It’s larger than Kageyama realized. Roomier too, but when you have full zero-G maneuverability it’s much easier to make use of volume. 

They end up in the arboretum module, just past hydroponics, and enjoy dinner together surrounded by greenery with a wonderful view of sunrise over Russia. It’s the most frustrating meal Kageyama’s ever had, and he can’t tell if Noya or Yaku is laughing harder. At one point he simply gives up, and launches himself after an escaping chunk of sausage. His victory, upon catching it in his mouth, is short lived as he bangs his head into the ceiling. Daichi winces, and unhelpfully tells him it will get easier. 

Noya gives him half his dehydrated ice-cream sandwich in sympathy. Turns out Daichi was right. It tastes of sugar-flavored dust, but he fakes enjoyment anyway. Noya pounds him on the back, proudly.

They start to disperse after, and Kuroo hangs back, motioning Kageyama to join him at the window. He waits in silence until they’re alone.

“Hey...I know this is an important week for you. I just wanted you to know, Kenma will be making the trip to Miyagi to visit Hinata, since you’re up here. Bring him a few offerings, say a few prayers. He'll be bringing little Shouyou with him.”

“That’s kind, but I’d rather not trouble him. I haven’t run into him in past years, so if this is too hard of a thing–“

Kuroo is shaking his head. “He’ll be fine, mostly. I don’t think he’s ever told you, but he visits on Hinata's birthday each year. That’s when his best memories are, of the two of them. He brings him a slice of strawberry cake and some small gift. Some cute bracelet or keyring. Something Chibi-chan would have loved.”

Kageyama smiles, recalling awed crow noises. Strange...what had once been annoying beyond reason had changed into something so endearing and precious. He wishes he could hear it again.

Warm memories are starting to pull back into a more painful nostalgia. He needs to go.

“Thank you, Kuroo. Thank you both. It's very kind.”

"I'm always...this...kind..." Kuroo's favorite catchphrase is half out of his mouth before he realizes it, and, too late to stop, the rest comes out lame and lifeless. He winces. "Sorry, I didn't mean–"

"It's fine. It's fine Kuroo. Thanks again." Kageyama pats his friend on the shoulder, dispelling the awkwardness as best he can before turning back toward the corridor. He doesn’t mention his own planned remembrance later in the week. That one is just for him, and Shouyou.

 

Noya ambushes him, tackling from above, but Kageyama manages to fend off the noogies. Together they make their way toward their quarters. “Suga said lights out in 15. Feeling tired yet?”

“Yeah. Now that all that adrenaline is gone–“

“Ha! I knew it! You’re good at hiding it, you’re very good, but you were scared out of your mind the whole way up, weren’t you? Fear makes the best kind of rush! Didn’t it make you go ‘gwaaaaah’ or something? Just all ‘fuaaah’ in the pit of your stomach?”

Kageyama slows to a stop, hand gripping a wall. Noya chatters on, and it takes a few seconds to note his friend’s silence, how his head is down.

“Hey...you okay?”

“Yeah. Just...don’t do that. Please.”

“What, with the ‘gwaaah’, ‘fuaaah’? You used to say that crap all the time, that was like your thing.”

“Yeah. It was our thing.”

Realization hits. Noya’s eyes soften. “Oh. Oh jeez, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. The anniversary is this week, isn’t it? You know, if you ever want to talk about it...”

Kageyama shakes his head, forces a smile and turns toward his sleeping quarters. “That’s okay. I just didn’t expect that. It’s fine, Noya.” He shuts the hatch behind him.

It’s not fine. But then it hasn’t been fine for a long time.

Safely tucked away in his personal sleeping module, Kageyama hugs his legs to his chest, chin on his knees, floating silently. Outside the reinforced dome window, the earth looks so peaceful. So quiet. He can see the swirling of a tropical storm near the Philippines. Lightning flickers through the clouds far below. His eyelids are drooping, and on the verge of dreaming, memories are flickering in Kageyama’s eyes too.

He remembers watching summer storms with Hinata, long ago. The fascinated redhead alternated between crow squawks with each pulsing flash, and wincing against Kageyama’s shoulder as the crashes echoed around them. It was their third year. They had gotten caught in the downpour on their way home and sheltered beneath a playground structure at the park. As the temperature dropped they looked to each other for warmth, each so hesitant at first, caught between fear and their own secret desire. After the awkwardness, when they both knew it was safe (‘ _hey...you won’t hate me...will you? You’ll keep tossing to me?’)_ , he remembers how Hinata sighed, encircled in his arms, chest warm against his own. It was his first time truly holding Hinata, and he never knew such sweet tenderness before, how deep it coursed through him. His heart could melt and wash away with the rain, and as long as he could hold Hinata close against him like this, he wouldn’t mind at all. In the storm, in the rain, toying with the soft sunset locks of hair, Kageyama confessed to Hinata Shouyou. Hinata clung even tighter and wept, despite himself. 

He remembers their last night in Miyagi, before leaving for college, cuddled close against each other within blankets at the edge of the riverbed. The night sky was so clear, the air so very still. Together they watched the stars fall. He remembers Shouyou’s voice at his ear: “Tobio...make a wish...” and there was nothing more he wanted than that moment to last eternal: Shouyou snuggled bare and warm within his arms, the cinnamon-apple scent of his hair...a night of endless falling stars, where the dawn would never come. 

He stays like that for the rest of the night: floating, watching the earth turn below, letting the memories rumble like tired storm clouds across his eyes. 

He doesn’t get any sleep.


	4. In Which We Let Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slowly, Kageyama lifts the locket back, tenses.
> 
> A minute passes. Two. His arm is frozen. When he lets go, it will be for real. It will be forever. No take backs. His last connection to Shouyou, gone. 
> 
> _Is this really okay?_
> 
>  _Shouyou...what should I do?_  
>  ______________________________________________
> 
> A surprise wake up call, an unwelcome reminder of a nostalgic game, and a final decision: to keep yearning for what's lost, or to start letting go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Musical suggestion while reading this chapter:  
> Lost by VAST - Nude  
> [listenonrepeat](https://www.listenonrepeat.com/watch?v=Qdhk2qXSduk)  
> [youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qdhk2qXSduk)
> 
> Suggestion for the spacewalk scene:  
> So Long, Goodbye by 10 Years - Division  
> [listenonrepeat](https://www.listenonrepeat.com/watch?v=X-8GeJNVM2Y)  
> [youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X-8GeJNVM2Y)

Noya ambushes him as soon as he exits his quarters. That on its own isn’t surprising (he’s pretty much resigned himself to this for the rest of his stay). What is surprising is the modded GoPro Noya is shoving into his face.

“And if you don’t get a good night’s sleep while you’re still young, kids, you’ll end up like _this_. Have you ever seen so ugly a space monster?”

“Guah?” His language centers haven’t quite woken up yet and there’s mischievous laughing from somewhere. Noya pivots his floating iPad, revealing Kageyama’s own haggard, bleary-eyed, slack jawed face, peering toward the camera as if trying to read tiny hieroglyphics. Noya taps a button, and the view is replaced by two-dozen huge, curious eyes, crowding the screen.

“Not so close, give those in the back room to see. Ah, sorry for the sudden wakeup, Kageyama-san.” Azumane Asahi is rubbing the back of his head, smiling apologetically. “Class, what do you say?”

“Good morning, Kageyama-san!”

“Uhhh...good...morning?” It _almost_ sounds like passable Japanese. 

Noya flips the camera back toward himself, pushing gently off the wall and down the corridor. “Now, I _know_ Azumane-sensei has taught you volleyball during gym...who can tell me what would happen if we tried to play volleyball in space?”

Kageyama flees the opposite direction, blinking sleep from his eyes. Once freshened up, he heads for the kitchen module. Yaku is relaxing in midair, absorbed in his PSP V. Yaku doesn't even seem to realize he's there as Kageyama heats his meal and grabs a drink. Something about the sounds and the digital voices causes Kageyama to drop his milk mid-hydration. Fortunately nothing falls, here, and he easily intercepts the few escaping droplets of water. He’s almost escaped with his milk and a heated curry bun when Yaku seems to finally notice his presence.

“Ah, Kageyama-san...good morning.”

Kageyama’s shoulders fall. No quick getaway. “Good morning, Yaku-san.”

“Kuroo and Daichi are out inspecting Hinomaru’s heat shields. Seems you took a hit sometime during your ride up. I’m thinking something jostled when the main booster separated?”

“Everything was shaking on the way up. I can’t tell the good shakes from the bad ones.”

“You’ll get an ear for it in time.” He makes to leave, hoping to get out before– “Oh, Kageyama-san, I don’t know if you play much, but they ported Final Haiku Quest to the PSP V,”

_Dammit Yaku..._

Yaku is waving the thing, and familiar sprites adorn the screen. “Kenma’s game, but you probably know all about that.” 

_No...just stop talking..._

“It’s my first time playing through, and it’s kind of surreal, since many the characters seem to resemb–“

“Sorry, I’m not really a gamer, Yaku-san,” he interrupts, a little too suddenly, “I’ll be in the arboretum if anyone needs me before before this afternoon’s operations.”

“I’ll let them know. You’re welcome to borrow this, if you change your mind.”

“Sure thing.” 

_Like hell I will._

A frantic encounter theme and enthusiastic battle cries fade into the distance, replaced by the hum of the hydroponics as he passes through. He finds he can breathe a little easier, in the arboretum. There are only a few trees in the spacious module, engineered for low-water use and high O2 replenishment. He drifts over to one, sets himself on one of the branches. He wonders if crows feel like this, perched so seemingly high up, fearless of falling.

Falling...

From the dialog, Yaku seemed to be only a few hours in. Likely near the part where the hero trips and falls from a cliff, only to be rescued and healed by Zemma, the mysterious wandering white mage with the neko staff. He played it several years back, when it was new, forewarned by Kuroo of the uncanny resemblances (after all, it did start out as Kenma’s own form of therapy, many years ago). And for a while, it was entertaining. Nostalgic. Funny, at times (he remembers falling from the couch crying with laughter when he recognized the Grand Demon King). Often eerily accurate, the amusing, borderline-flirting arguments between the hero Hiruma and the the ranger Kagame. Several hours in, he thought he could see its therapeutic value. Playing through, facing demons and danger: Kuroo and Kenma, Kageyama and Hinata. Despite the fantasy setting, it felt like old times. It felt warm.

And then he stumbled upon one of the bad ends: Hiruma frozen to death, in the snow. Kageme finding him, holding his still body in his arms, weeping. Kageyama had let out a cry, thrown his PSP into a wall where it shattered to pieces. He hadn’t touched the game since. 

Later, when he asked about it, why Kenma would add such a thing into the game, Kuroo explained it was probably something added on by the staff, later. Even if Kenma had the original idea and created the base story and characters, this was an Atlas RPG, put together by an entire team of writers and programmers. Of course there would be scenes Kenma would never have imagined or intended. Mostly in good ways. Mostly.

He thinks next time he talks to Yaku, he’ll ask him to wear headphones.

_–Kageyama?–_

Kageyama looks up, locating the intercom system and the nearest camera. in the corner.

“Suga. I keep forgetting you’re up here with us, in a manner of speaking. Is anything the matter?”

_–I was going to ask the same thing. You didn’t get any sleep last night.–_

“You peeked.” But of course there’s no expectation of privacy, when he’s up here. 

_–I checked your vitals last night, noticed you were still conscious, THEN peeked. Tobio...are you okay?–_

He considers lying. Though with Suga, that’s not likely to get very far.

“There’s a lot on my mind. Things you can’t outrun, even by blasting into orbit.”

_–The world keeps turning, Tobio. Life moves on. Whether at sea level or 400 klicks up, you need to learn to move on too.–_

"That's easy for you to say, Suga. If it were Daichi instead–" 

 _–Kageyama!–_ Even before Suga's harsh warning is out, even before the words leave his mouth, he wishes he could take them back, and he's wincing.

"I'm...I apologize, Suga, that– I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry, I'm just a bit rattled this morning."

_–Does this have something to do with Yaku's game?–_

"How did you– right...cameras in the kitchen too." Suga doesn't answer. "It just hit a little close to home. That's all."

_–Are you still up for the CRV switchout this afternoon? It is your first spacewalk, we can always push it ba–_

“I’ll be fine, Suga. We both know there’s something important I have to do out there anyway. No point in delaying it.”

* * *

 

Several hours later, the NASA X-40 CRV is docked with the JSS, and the older Soyuz TMA capsule safely stowed in the Hinomaru’s cargo bay. He can see Yaku inside the new escape vessel, humming as he finishes diagnostics and system tests. At least Kageyama assumes he’s still humming. He had muted Yaku’s signal shortly after he lost all hope of Yaku getting into the right key. 

“Quite the piece of science fiction, isn’t it?” Daichi is quietly admiring the sleek return vehicle. 

“A big step up from the Soyuz. I’ve always preferred the idea of a leisurely glide back to the ground rather than dropping like a rock.”

“Don’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it. It’s got a certain charm to it, truth to tell.”

“You’ve ridden one of these things back, Sawamura-san?” Kageyama points over his shoulder at the still-docked secondary Soyuz capsule, twin to the one in the Hinomaru’s hold.

“Once. About 3 years back, my third time up. The Russians were about to launch a replacement anyway, and one needed to come down. If you’ve ever wanted to know how it feels to be one of those cartoon falling anvils, there’s no better simulator.” Daichi finishes his inspection on the port side, gives a thumbs up to Yaku as he floats by the cockpit window.

“You’re not exactly making your case, Commander.” Kageyama likewise gives Yaku the ok for starboard.

“I won’t try to convince you that it’s enjoyable. But it is historic. There’s only a few of those rust buckets left. After this it’s all sleek and chrome, all sci-fi. Even the Hinomaru and Tsukimaru are starting to show their age.” 

“Ah, speaking of which, the heat shield repairs?”

“We’ll start on that tomorrow, no sense pushing ourselves.” *click* “Kuroo-san, Sawamura. I think we’re done here. Permission to return?” 

_–Copy, Sawamura-san, you are go for reentry at airlock 3.–_

Kageyama hangs back. “I’ll follow shortly, Commander. It’s my first time up, I’d like to savor the view for just a little longer.”

The thrusters of Daichi’s maneuver harness fire briefly as he pivots, fixing Kageyama with a long, searching stare. Just when it starts to feel uncomfortable, he pivots back toward the station. “Don’t take too long, Kageyama-san.”

Kageyama gently pushes off the X-40, activating his mag-boots when close enough to one of the station’s modules. He doesn’t have a maneuver harness, but the tether at his waist stretches aimlessly back toward the airlock. He stands, watching the sun set over Europe. The lights of Japan sparkle above him. Further south, in the darkness, the typhoon continues to spin soundlessly in the Pacific.

It really is a view to savor. Larger, more vast than he ever thought it would be: an entire planet, holding billions upon billions of lives...sleeping, laughing, loving... 

He wonders if he’ll ever really be able to love again. His therapist keeps saying so (or did, until Kageyama nearly decked him). The idea of it is still too absurd for him to grasp. He looks up at the earth again. An entire planet...an entire world...without Hinata Shouyou. That’s even more absurd. 

How many billions of years did it take? How many random chemical interactions? How many coincidences and improbable interactions throughout the history of the universe did it take to generate a radiant boy named Hinata Shouyou? Surely, such a being, such an improbable, amazing being, couldn’t be so fragile? And yet, gone, in an instant. Gone, in the space of an afternoon drive. Gone, without even a last chance to say goodbye. But then, this is why he’s here, isn’t it?

Kageyama reaches for the velcro pouch at his belt. The flat, volleyball-inscribed locket is only a dull pressure through his gloves. He can’t feel the indentations. He dares not open the locket. It’s fitting, that it never be opened again. Inside, the last lock of hair of the only boy he’s ever loved. Captured in the picture within, Kageyama will hold Hinata Shouyou in his arms forever. There's a kind of immortality in that. Some sliver of the eternal, for the both of them.

Slowly, Kageyama lifts the locket back, tenses.

A minute passes. Two. His arm is frozen. When he lets go, it will be for real. It will be forever. No take backs. His last connection to Shouyou, gone. 

_Is this really okay?_

_Shouyou...what should I do?_

His heart is a twin to the typhoon below, twisting. Suga’s words are ripping at him _(“...you can’t keep clinging...this isn’t healthy...”)_ , the pitying stares of his teammates and friends whirling before his eyes, the blunt analysis of his therapist, the pull of cinnamon-apple incense...Hinata looking over his shoulder, grinning _(“hurry up, Bakayama!”)._ His smile in monochrome, staring back out at him from the memorial. 

And that’s it. That’s the center of this storm: in his secret heart, the irrational hope that if he only ran fast enough, reached fervently enough, yearned strongly enough, that somehow, some way, he could catch up, he could hold Shouyou in his arms again. That the world could somehow take back one lost soul, that they could somehow make their way back to each other, to that night of endless falling stars.

But there is nobody there to reach. There is no longer anyone there to catch. Accepting those truths, that’s what Suga meant. That’s what it will take, to unbind this storm. That is what this moment is really about.

His eyes close. His arm stretches out. No longer to reach, or to catch. To let go.

“Ah!” As soon as the locket leaves his hand his heart is lurching – _no! no no no!–_ but it’s still not too far away, it’s not too late, all he has to do is unhook and push off and– 

A firm hand grips his shoulder and he startles, looking back. Sawamura Daichi’s stare is firm, but his voice is soft.  

“Tobio...let him go.”

Kageyama strains for just a few seconds more against Daichi’s rock solid grip, then collapses on himself, tension leaving him. 

“Yeah. Yeah.” He suddenly feels exhausted, and very very small.

They stay like that for several minutes, Daichi standing vigil as Kageyama watches the flash of the spinning silver drift away. A lock of the softest hair that he will never touch again. Hinata’s scent, gone...

Faintly, in his head, he hears the roar of the crowd...sharp whistles signaling game point, Karasuno shouting victory, and in the middle, he can see Hinata...fists balled up and eyes scrunched shut with emotion as he shouts his joy. His cheeks are flushed, and his smile, radiant. Blinding. But then he’s fading...fading...and then he’s gone. The court empty. Even the echo of the crowd dies at last.

_I love you, Hinata Shouyou. I always will. I miss you so very much..._

He can no longer see the locket. It’s out there, somewhere, drifting in the dark. Maybe someday, years from now it will tumble back toward earth. He thinks Shouyou would have liked that: becoming a falling star, a burning wish, in the night sky.

He isn’t sure what he’s supposed to feel anymore, inside. Everything is just...dull. Numb. Daichi takes him gently by the arm and together they float toward the airlock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Made the decision to split this chapter in two, looking at 6 chapters total, now.
> 
> And yes, I am aware I named it "Final Haiku Quest". The actual Final Haikyuu Quest only has that name for meta reasons, and all volleyball references are also meta. The game in this story has nothing to do with volleyball, and is entirely a classic style JRPG, thus the name change. And Kenma would have had the decency to at least change names of the characters, before submitting his ideas.


	5. In Which We Once Touched The Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once, we were inseparable.
> 
> Once, we were invincible.
> 
> Once, we touched the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Musical suggestion while reading this chapter:  
> Together We Will Live Forever - The Fountain soundtrack, by Clint Mansell  
> [youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=swAicg0GjNg)

Kageyama’s sleeping quarters are far too quiet this night.

Back in his apartment, on nights like these, when his heart feels especially hollow, he can turn on the TV, open a book, play some mindless shooter on his console. Whatever it takes to flee from here and now and simply not be Kageyama Tobio, at least for a few hours. Just until fatigue hits him like a brick and he can sink beneath both dreams and nightmares.

The silence tonight cuts through any attempt at distraction. Silence is rooted within absence, and for years Kageyama’s life has been too full of absent things:

Silence, where there should be giggling and laughter.

Stillness, where there should be another’s movement at his side.

A single heart beating a lone call into the dark, where no answer will ever come.

This is what kills you, day after day and night after night, when you’ve known what it meant to be alloy: everything you do, everything you are, is a reminder of what’s lost. The edges of you, tracing not just where you end, but where someone else once began. Arms that were meant to embrace. The ache for the clasp of another’s hand. For the sensation of a slim, familiar musculature beneath palms and fingertips: the topology of Hinata Shouyou, every contour traced with such reverence, so long ago.

His hands still remember. His entire being remembers. The miracle of it, the awe: Hinata, bare and warm in his arms as the stars fell through the October sky (whispering “goodnight, Bakayama” as he nuzzled close, against his neck).

But ash and memory are all that remain, and worst of all, Kageyama himself. When you are the piece left behind, the shape of you, what’s left, can’t help but define the absence beside it.

And so, as his consciousness succumbs to the silence between distant stars, he finds himself slipping into that absence.

Kageyama dreams.

He dreams of oceans, vast beyond knowing, chill and empty on his skin. Caught in the currents, he watches the stars glittering, cold and crystalline, far above. The tidal ebb and flow rocks him down ever deeper into slumber.

He dreams of sea shells, cool and hollow-smooth, their echo longing for waves. He falls endlessly through their dim spiraled chambers, away from sun and sea, into the dark.

 

When he opens his eyes, Karasuno’s court lies before him, dimly lit. The last rays of the sun have faded. Where there should be shouting and movement and the squeaking of rubber soles, there’s only an expectant silence. And yet, perversely, the volleyball net is stretched taught and neat across the court, the ball just below.

Kageyama takes a step back, then another, eyes on the volleyball as if it’s a grenade primed for detonation.

It’s too much: this stillness, the absence, the urge to set that ball into motion (the faint hope that it would summon Hinata into being to spike the toss; the dread that the ball would fall on a forever-empty court).

He turns, flees, ignoring the crown falling from his head, the rich red cape slipping from his shoulders.

He reaches the doors, pushes through–

 

The lights are dim on the first floor of the dorm tower. As Kageyama makes his way to the stairs, he doesn’t find any of his fellow students. Are they all away at class? But no, it’s a weekend. Is there some activity he forgot, some freshman event? He’ll have to ask Hinata, he supposes, once he returns to his room. Surely Hinata wouldn’t have left without him.

And then the scent of smoke hits his senses. Terror pounces on him like a wild animal and he’s running, leaping the stairs three at a time.

The fifth floor is filled with black smoke and the crackling of distant flames. Horror rises in his throat, and then there’s nothing else, he has to reach Hinata, and he’s already in motion, shouting, calling (into the dark, into the dark...)

Their shared room is just around the corner at the end of the hall. Not far, but he’s already coughing from the heat and the smoke, the air is blistering in his throat.

The corridor turns left, narrows. then another left. A right. Narrows again, so close it brushes both shoulders. Another right. Another. Another. Another. Left at last. Left again. Right. The corridor is much too tight, twisting this way and that, and did their hall have so many turns?

He keeps running, and the crackling is everywhere, how will Hinata hear over that crackling, he’s been calling for Hinata for what seems like hours. Where is he? _Where is he?_ He’s supposed to say he’s right here, supposed to be just behind him, at his side, just like always, and then their door is before him, and he’s stumbling–

 

“You took your time. Didn’t run into anyone scary in the bathroom, did you?”

Hinata is leaning back against the wall, finishing off the last of his cotton candy (though glancing around quickly for any scary volleyball captains, just in case). Kageyama absentmindedly closes the door behind him, unable to pull his gaze off Hinata. He almost recalls smelling smoke, but no, that’s just the slightly-burnt popcorn from the booth nearby.

“I was...I was looking for you...” He almost chokes out the words...there’s something painful and desperate in his chest as he speaks them, though he knows they make no sense. His boyfriend has been waiting outside the entire time.

Hinata smiles softly.

“Well, you found me! So...what first? Milkbottle toss? The shooting gallery? Volleyball spiking? (They’ve GOT to have a volleyball spiking booth, right?) Oooo, I want one of those animal plushies!”

Too excited to wait for an answer, Hinata takes his hand and pulls him into the flashing lights and delightful chaos of the fairgrounds.

Hinata leads. Kageyama follows.

That shouldn’t be such a surprising thing. He’s gotten so used to Hinata’s hand clasping his, pulling him forward. This is how they always are. And yet, for some reason he’s unable to look away from where their hands are joined. Fingers entwined. Warm. Together. Invincible.

Which doesn’t seem to count for much, when it comes to fair games.

They go from booth to booth, shoving and yelling (punching and kicking) and utterly failing to score, let alone outdo each other. Though Kageyama does get to watch Hinata’s face scrunching up in concentration, tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth, before he wails at the top of his lungs and (eyes scrunched closed) throws the most awful toss ever, nearly hitting the operator.

Said operator finally gives them one of those ridiculous plushies just to go away and stop disturbing the other patrons. It’s this weird fat cartoony thing...some kind of chubby crow perhaps?

Kageyama is still frowning into its blank clueless eyes, trying to make sense of the oddly familiar mop of orange fluff on its head, when Hinata squawks in excitement, slipping his hand (small and warm and perfect) into Kageyama’s own, pulling him forward yet again.

Hinata leads. Kageyama follows.

It no longer matters where, anymore, as long as Hinata is there, smiling back at him (and why is his heart is aching in his chest, why does he not want to let go?)

Of course it’s another confection booth. He doesn’t know what monstrous force powers his boyfriend’s insatiable sweet tooth, but when it comes to ice cream, Kageyama can hardly argue.

Eating ice cream is as much a contest as anything else between them. They abandon their initial bet-I-can-finish-first race quite abruptly, accompanied by moans and scrunched eyes as brain freeze takes them both (as it does in EVERY ice cream race between them). Instead, they slide into something a bit...new.

It starts with a noise...something low in the back of Hinata’s throat...almost a purring. One curious glance over, and Kageyama’s jaw almost drops.

Hinata’s eyes are doing that...thing. That intense staring that only Hinata can do. Not his thousand-yard, volleyball-monster stare when he’s challenged, underestimated, or fully attuned to the game (though Kageyama _loves_ that one more than he can say). _This_ stare however is for him alone: The lidded eyes. The desire. The _heat_.

And then he drops his gaze to Hinata’s tongue...small and pink, coyly licking a meandering path through the cool cream. In full view, for Kageyama. Hungry. Suggestive.

Suggestive of _what_ , he finds himself blanking (a side effect of this kind of short-circuiting that’s quickly becoming Hinata’s specialty), but one thing is absolutely clear:

Two can play at that game.

Kageyama knows he can’t smile worth a damn, but there are other expressions he’s discovered work quite well on his boyfriend. Surprisingly he’s found these aren’t hard for him at all...all he has to do is imagine Hinata as a volleyball on the most perfect, beautiful trajectory through the air toward his eager, waiting hands, and almost by magic, Hinata is a flushing, sputtering mess, often unable to meet his gaze except in quick, almost shy glances.

Kageyama casually looks off to the side, as if unaffected. Then he licks, long and slow, up the side of the soft vanilla, flicking his eyes back to Hinata’s and focusing his most powerful _come hither, perfect ball of mine_ gaze directly on his boyfriend.

Hinata _reels_ , wide-eyed. A faint telltale dusting of red threatens to spread to a blush, but he recovers, eyes narrowing in challenge, and it is _on._

They continue, in the middle of the bustling fairway, to unleash their most wanton, lusty gazes at each other, tongues dancing ridiculously through their ice cream.

And then, just as both their tongues are about to give out, Hinata goes for the kill.

Hinata intensifies his stare, watches him, eyes half-lidded, his gaze filled with enough trust and affection to steal his breath (the same way he looks at him when he leans into Kageyama’s touch upon his cheek, nuzzling shyly against his hand).

Kageyama’s defense breaks, he can feel his heart melting, the blush spreading across his face, but just before Hinata can crow victory, Kageyama smushes his ice cream into Hinata’s face.

To his credit, he does help clean it up (the ache in his tongue absolutely worth it). Going by the hot flush of Hinata’s cheeks (and involuntary moan as Kageyama tastes Hinata’s lips), Kageyama declares the contest a tie.

Hinata doesn’t object, just squeezes his boyfriend’s hand tighter, eyes sliding to the ferris wheel and back, eyebrows raised in question. And then there’s no question what ride they’ll try next.

Hinata leads. Kageyama follows.

For that’s how it’s always been between them, since Karasuno: From tyrant king to trusted teammate. From shy awkward loner to beloved partner. And just when it seems they’re running even again, Hinata licks his lips hungrily, surges forth, and pulls Kageyama by the hand, one more step toward the top of the world.

And so it makes perfect sense, when Hinata tugs him toward the ferris wheel, making those awed crow sounds as he gazes upward.

The night view during the ascent is gorgeous. They stop at the apex, just before the first firework explodes.

He watches the expanding orange blossom, its glory mirrored out over the water.

Hinata’s hooded eyes reflecting the orange light are even more glorious.

And this is it. This is the moment, as the sky explodes in color around them. His heart is racing as he reaches into his pocket, kneeling, at the top of the world with Hinata Shouyou.

His hand closes around nothing.

Did he forget the ring? He couldn’t have forgotten the ring!

_(but I didn’t have his ring yet...I hadn’t even ordered it...)_

Not ordered...? Surely he had!

He remembers comparing the designs, getting their ring sizes. He remembers agonizing over the materials.

He remembers driving out to visit his parents to ask their recommendation. He remembers his mother running out to meet him, her eyes filled with tears–

_Oh..._

The force of it knocks the breath from him. He can feel his throat constrict, a burning behind his eyes.

_...oh..._

His heart is twisting in his chest. It’s hard to breathe–

 _“Kageyama? What-- what’s...happening?”_  

The words come out slow...stretched out...

He raises his eyes, and Hinata is ablaze, flailing in slow motion at his burning clothing, fire licking languidly along his skin, embered within his shirt and hair.

Kageyama tries to rise, tries to reach, but the air feels thick, his muscles weak. He can barely move.

_“Where...are...you? Ka-ge-ya-ma?”_

His anguished cry twists in the air, stretching out even slower, warping, echoing, accusing, as Hinata stumbles back ever so slowly, unbalanced, a flame in mid-flicker _._

He hits the railing, reaching out one last time, desperately, as he tilts backward over the side.

The spell breaks.

“Shouyou!” Kageyama screams as he scrambles forward, reaching over the edge–

–all he sees on the other side is a star-dusted abyss, and a silver locket slipping just out of reach, glinting as it spins away into the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day! :D (ohgoddon'tkillme)


	6. In Which We Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suga’s train of thought derails into a wary attentiveness as he becomes aware of a grouping of several team members near the Trajectory Operations station, two on phones, several others wearing worried expressions and darting back and forth to check other stations. There’s a nervous energy growing that seems far too familiar.
> 
> Most of his nightmares start out with this exact feeling.
> 
> “JSS, Tsukuba: pause mission and stand by...” He toggles off the comms.
> 
> _Maybe it’s nothing. Please let it be nothing..._
> 
> Suga is already on has way across the room when Ennoshita, still on his phone, looks back at him with fear in his eyes, waving him over, and Suga breaks into a run. The former Karasuno captain mouths “STRATCOM” and “RED”.
> 
> Red late-notice conjunction threats aren’t unheard of, most end up being harmless even without needing to maneuver out of danger, but the look in Ennoshita’s eyes is unmistakable: Something is very, very wrong.
> 
> _No...not like this...please, not like this...there has to be time..._
> 
> “How close? How soon?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cue the sudden but inevitable space disaster.

Within the private CAPCOM booth in Tsukuba Mission Control, Sugawara watches his friend shudder side to side in his sleep, moaning. Kageyama jolts and with a final panicked cry his eyes fly open.

He gasps in the stillness, catching his breath, but Suga can see the tear droplets spilling from his friend’s eyes, drifting in the cabin. He can see the emotions flowing across his face: confusion...guilt...loss... What Suga had merely glimpsed that night at the bar is naked and raw across Kageyama’s face.

The booth is silent save his friend’s quick, uneven breaths and the respiration and heartbeat monitors dancing in time to his panic. But even that gives way.

Kageyama’s breathing evens. The monitors quiet down. He undoes the straps holding him down and drifts free.

Suga toggles the transmitter.

“Kageyama?”

His friend drifts, motionless, though his eyes are darting back and forth, remembering.

 _– I cast it away, didn’t I? –_ His voice sounds very small in the silence.

“You did.”

Suga does not add that such a thing wasn’t what he meant at all by “letting go”. Sometimes Suga forgets, despite all his skill, all his genius, Kageyama is still Kageyama. Maybe he should have seen this coming. But then, in some ways, it feels like this crisis has been inevitable, lost locket or not.

“How are you feeling?”

_– Scared –_

“What?”

_– I’m scared, Suga. –_

There is so much more beneath that word, beneath the facade he struggled to hold in place. It’s rare, this straightforward honesty.

_– I’m scared of letting go. Of what that means. –_

“Letting go doesn’t mean forgetting him, Kageyama.”

 _– Then what does it mean? Moving on?_ How _? Without Hinata? –_

There’s desperation in his words, disbelief, a hint of hysteria.

_– I don’t know who I am without him, Suga. Twelve years on...and I still have no idea. –_

That hits Suga far too close to home, and all his prepared suggestions and arguments die on his tongue.

“I understand,” he answers quietly.

He does, intimately, and he can’t help but anxiously twist the silver band on his finger.

Seeing Kageyama fall completely apart after Hinata passed, seeing all that fire and intensity gutted out, terrified Suga more than anything. For a time, it was as if Kageyama had died as well, his spirit snuffed yet his body still mechanically going through the motions, a husk, a stranger.

It keeps Suga up some nights. After all, Suga had woven Daichi into his heart long before their vows, before the proposal. All it would take is one bad launch, one fatal problem on reentry, and it could be him staring hollow and screaming inside as static fills the comms. He’s had nightmares like that. Thankfully, none while Daichi’s been in orbit, so all he’s had to do was snuggle into Daichi’s warm arms and sigh, and the phantom fear dissolved.

Kagayama, though, has been living this nightmare for years. Never healing, not really, stuck in a loop between denial and bargaining and depression, stumbling blindly forward, finding ways to conceal how terribly broken he really is. At least with Daichi’s offer (at Suga’s prompting), he’s had something to distract him, a goal to work towards, challenges to overcome. Some days he’s even sounded just like his old self: confident, committed, determination unwavering. Some days he was the very image of the captain he grew into, so many years ago.

He’s far from that now, a shadow. When he makes his way planet side, there will be no avoiding the fallout, the psychiatric evaluations, the attempts at counseling. It may be years before Kageyama is cleared for another launch. Or his space career might end here, if he decides to seek solace again from the bottom of a bottle. In any case, he just has to keep Kageyama going for the last few days of the mission.

_– Suga... I can’t stay here. –_

“I know, but I can’t move the departure schedule up, even for–“

_– This room, Suga. This quiet. I need to be doing something. Isn’t Daichi supposed to replace the heat shielding tiles today? –_

“...”

_– Suga? –_

“I’m not sure a spacewalk is the best thing for you right now...”

_– Doing something, keeping busy, always distracted me well enough. –_

“In the state you’re in, I really can’t allow--“

_– Suga...I have a lot to work out, I know, but I’m not going to die out here. I’m coming home, I promise. I know what Hinata’s loss did to you...to all of you. I’m not going to put any of you through that. Once was already too much. –_

Suga pauses, considers (very much against his better judgement).

_– Suga...I’m coming home, safe and sound. I promise you. Plus Daichi would kill me if I did anything stupid up here. He’d find some way to bring me back just so he could kill me himself. –_

“You better believe he would.” Suga sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Okay. Okay, let’s play it your way. I’ll check with the others, ensure you’re kept busy the rest of your stay. Starting with the heat shield repairs, since you and Daichi have the most training for that, but that’s your last spacewalk, okay? You’re not going to make me regret this?”

_–That sounds fine, Suga. I just need to be doing something, I can’t take silence right now. –_

 

Suga monitors the repairs from the control room, listening to Kageyama and Daichi bantering, Daichi smoothly filling the silences before they occur, keeping the conversation going.

Yesterday’s inspection had revealed several of the heat shielding tiles near the booster attach points were missing or damaged. Nothing that can’t be repaired, but it sends a chill up Suga’s spine, imagining what might have happened without these safety checks. There hasn’t been a major space flight disaster since Columbia. Suga’s seen the memorial plaque in person when he visited Houston during his intern and training days. The figment of a similar metal sheet with Daichi’s name on it drifts across his mind, and he shoves it away with gritted teeth.

This isn’t the time for irrational fear, especially on such a short mission. In just a few days Daichi will be back, and after Suga gives him a good stomach punching for making him worry, Daichi will be giving him back massages and letting Suga massage his thighs, and that’s by far a much nicer thought than–

Suga’s train of thought derails into a wary attentiveness as he becomes aware of a grouping of several team members near the Trajectory Operations station, two on phones, several others wearing worried expressions and darting back and forth to check other stations. There’s a nervous energy growing that seems far too familiar.

Most of his nightmares start out with this exact feeling.

“JSS, Tsukuba:pause mission and stand by...” He toggles off the comms.

_Maybe it’s nothing. Please let it be nothing..._

Suga is already on has way across the room when Ennoshita, still on his phone, looks back at him with fear in his eyes, waving him over, and Suga breaks into a run. The former Karasuno captain mouths “STRATCOM” and “RED”.

Red late-notice conjunction threats aren’t unheard of, most end up being harmless even without needing to maneuver out of danger, but the look in Ennoshita’s eyes is unmistakable: Something is very, very wrong.

_No...not like this...please, not like this...there has to be time..._

“How close? How soon?”

 

_– ...pause mission and stand by... –_

The unease in Suga’s voice is impossible to miss. A glance toward Daichi and a slight head nod is enough to get them both of them circling the Hinomaru and closer toward the station.

“Noya, Sawamura: don’t suit up, let’s hold off on the solar panel maintenance for now. Kuroo, prep the airlock for us. It’s probably nothing, but I’ve got a bad feel-“

_–JSS, Tsukuba: Mission abort. Shelter immediately in the CRV and Soyuz modules and standby for evacuation–_

Suga’s voice is tight, a quick staccato of panic. Kageyama can feel his own blood freezing in his veins.

Commander Sawamura’s eyes narrow as he pivots back toward the station: “Copy, already moving toward the airlock. Tsukuba, elaborate.”

_–Red late conjunction, meteor storm out of nowhere, US STRATCOM just detected it after a signal blackout –_

“Copy, debris from that new comet last month probably. Time until impact?”

_–Now, Daichi! Get everyone inside and on the return vehicles now!–_

No. No no no. _Fuck_ no. He’s _seen_ this movie. He’s seen this fucking movie. He’s watched it over and over in horrified fascination: debris strikes, spinning helplessly in the vacuum, the shuttle disintegrating, the ISS gone, oxygen depleted and seconds from death in cold vacuum.... This movie was the entire reason he was going to reject Sawamura’s offer in the first place. Yet, somehow, inconceivably, he still made it up here.

And that fucking movie _followed_ him.

_–geyama?...Kageyama, your blood pressure is spiking! You can’t freeze, not now! Move!–_

Kageyama blinks. He’s hyperventilating. He tries to slow his breathing, and he’s just starting to move when he sees it: a spinning grayish mass, about the size of a basketball, whips by not 10 feet from the station. Another streak of movement catches his eye at the left corner of his vision. Then another.

And then the sky is literally falling around them.

It all goes quiet. It’s as if someone shut off his breath entirely. He only realizes this as his lungs reflexively gasp, hungry for precious oxygen.

He can’t tell, as another gasp shakes him, if it’s been seconds, minutes, or longer, since his last breath. His blood feels frozen...arms and legs numb. It takes him several moments to realize Suga is still yelling in his ear, but it’s muted, as if underwater, and his limbs just aren’t working.

A large shadow passes by, and Kageyama watches wide-eyed as the Hinomaru drifts free, its silent rotation marred by the occasional hard impact on its wings and hull. Behind it, the docking arm is severed, yet in some distant part of Kageyama’s mind, he acknowledges the faint chatter on the comms, proof that the inner modules haven’t yet breached.

He sees Daichi continuing toward the airlock, the thrusters in his maneuver harness pulsing. To the commander’s side, a larger rocky chunk, nearly the size of a car, cleaves clear through a segment of the solar collector array. He watches the mass of panels and steel framing fall toward them, as if in slow motion, windmilling end over end.

It’s almost pretty, the iridescent blue of the array, the fleeting shine as it catches the light mid-spin, fragments of shattered solar cells raining down like crystal hail.

Kageyama’s mouth is open. His warning is just on the tip of his tongue, and surely there’s time, surely...but then the array is upon them, looming, passing over. An outer arm of the panel catches Daichi on the side of his helmet, and he’s spinning, spinning out into the dark.

_– DAICHIIII! –_

Suga’s scream tears through his head, anguished and piercing, and it’s like breaking through to the surface, loud and full-speed and chaotic. Bits and pieces of rock and station are falling like eerily silent rain, Kuroo is yelling for Kageyama to return over the station’s klaxons, Noya screaming back that it’s not too late, that we can’t abandon him, leaving Yaku’s voice as the only calm in this storm as he preps the X-40 for evacuation.

Kageyama turns, scanning the debris...there he is: Commander Sawamura, limp, tumbling. A small plume of gas is leaking from near his neck, but it’s not clear if it’s from the maneuver vest or his suit, but at a glance Kageyama knows Kuroo is right: Sawamura is too far out, now, well beyond the range of his tether.

He hears Ennoshita’s commanding voice joining the line, assuming CAPCOM, and somewhere behind the chatter, as if far in the distance, screaming: a name, over and over. 

Kageyama can see it. He can see the future playing out from this instant:

He sees Suga collapsed into a corner, shoulders trembling silently (and how many corners has Kageyama himself inhabited, as if he could wedge himself so tightly away from the world he would disappear into the cracks?)

He hears Noya and Asahi whispering quietly as they clear away the neglected dishes and discarded microwaveable meals strewn about the counter, some barely touched...Suga curled in upon himself on the couch.

He watches the life fade from Suga’s eyes (and how many times has he stared vacantly into his own eyes in the bathroom mirror, wondering when they became so empty?)

He remembers how he yelled at Suga in the arboretum ( _“If it were Daichi instead–“_ )

Within seconds, this future will be set in stone. Another fallen crow to mourn, another life destroyed (and their daughters...oh God their _daughters_ , without their dad).

Only mere seconds.

No. _No._

He reaches down. Unhooks the tether. Crouches, eyes locking in the trajectory.

He jumps.

There’s chaos on the comms, familiar voices calling his name. He pushes them away, concentrates only on Daichi as he closes the distance, tracking his spin. 3...2...1...

The impact knocks the wind from him, but he holds--he _holds_ \--and with minimal fumbling, he reaches the maneuvering controls, slows their spin as best he can, though the venting gas keeps them in motion. He locks them together with his suit-mounted tether, and, bracing himself for the worst, looks to his friend and captain’s face.

Daichi is out cold, and while there’s some alarming spiderwebbing across his outer visor, his indicator shows no sign of depressurization: He’s alive.

“Tsukuba, Kagayama: I have the Commander. He’s unconscious, but no immediate punctures or breaches.”

The comms are still full of klaxons and back and forth chatter, but Ennoshita’s voice cuts through, tense but in control. _– Copy, Kageyama. Yaku, can the X-40 retrieve them? –_

_– Negative Tsukuba. The bulk of the station is acting as our umbrella right now, taking most of the impacts. Our best escape option is a hard thrust to match the direction and velocity of the storm, then angle out and de-orbit once we’re clear. To retrieve them first would expose the CRV for too long. We wouldn’t last. –_

_–_ _Copy. Kageyama, options? Can you return with the commander? –_

Kageyama glances at the maneuver harness readout. “Negative. The maneuver harness was hit and is leaking propellant. There’s not much left. I don’t think I even have enough to counter the spin while returning, I’ll be off course in any case.” His eyes scan the debris, the storm. It’s getting even worse, and it’s a small miracle they haven’t yet been hit. “We have no time.”

He pulls his eyes from the rocky hail. The Hinomaru is just passing him, spinning about its axis. Kageyama’s eyes narrow in concentration. He takes one second to read its spin. Another to gauge the distance between here and the station. One more to confirm on the draining indicator that this looming moment is the only chance left. He presses the controls, veering them toward the shuttle and countering the spin.

Ennoshita is just starting to issue instructions, and Kageyama cuts him off. There’s no time to discuss this. “Tsukuba, I can retrieve the commander, but we only have one chance at this. Noya, are you suited up?”

_– And in the CRV airlock, the depressurization cycle is just about finished. –_

Just like their libero, always thinking several steps ahead, and in the perfect position for a save.

“Tether up and get ready. Daichi’s coming to you.”

_– What about you? –_

Kageyama doesn’t answer as he watches the shuttle approaching, spinning, and, arms full with Daichi, he awkwardly manages to press a button on his arm controls. There’s a moderate impact as his magnetic boots contact the Hinomaru’s wing and he has to bend his knees to absorb the push back as he joins its spin. With the amplified power, his boots hold, and he activates Daichi’s as well. He finds he doesn’t have to brace Daichi’s body anymore, and a quick glance confirms the leak in the maneuver harness has stopped. It’s empty. No reason not to remove it, then. He starts undoing the harness straps and attach points.

_– Kageyama...Kageyama answer me! What about you? How are you getting Daichi back? –_

He looks up. Noya is a small dot in the distance, on the side of the CRV, waving his arms in exasperation.

Kageyama makes the final disconnections and the maneuver harness drifts free. “I’m going to toss him.”

Noya’s arms freeze. There’s a moment of incredulous silence.

_– You can’t be serious. –_

“I’m going to toss him right to you, on the next spin. Well, more like just a good shove, but when it comes down to it it’s just hand-eye coordination.” With the shuttle’s rotation the station is nearly out of sight, the earth spinning in to loom above him.

_– That’s insane, Kageyama! Just jump instead, I’ll get both of you! –_

Kageyama closes his eyes. “Noya...what is the occupancy of the X-40?”

_\- Four. But we can make room– -_

“It’s not a limitation of space, Noya. It’s life support. The CO2 buildup with an additional person will become toxic before you can land.” He silently thanks Lev for that...after all that cramming on the Soyuz and CRV, something stuck, after all.

 _– He’s right, Noya, –_ Yaku confirms. There’s no arguing with that. Yaku’s memorized every page of the specs.

_– But there’s the Soyuz-- –_

“You can’t see it from where you are, Noya, but the station’s coming to pieces. Some modules are already depressurizing, and your Soyuz has already been hit.”

Before the JSS went out of sight, he had also seen several flash-frozen trees drifting free out of the arboretum.

“It’s too risky, with the time it takes to get it prepped. Besides, I’ve got a Soyuz already.” He glances toward the beaten shuttle. “Well. Assuming the Hinomaru’s bay doors will still open. But it’s the riskier option, it could be damaged. I’m getting the commander back to you.”

Kuroo’s voice joins the comms, sharp with concern: _– Tossing a person isn’t the same as tossing a ball, Kageyama. –_

“No, it’s not. Still, I can do this.”

He tries to make himself believe that. Twelve years. Twelve years since he even touched a volleyball. Twelve years since Hinata.

“I can do this.”

He lowers the strength of his mag boots, deactivates Daichi’s completely, and detaches the tether connecting them. The earth has spun out of his view already, replaced with a starry vacuum, as he maneuvers his commander and captain to find the the right places to brace him, silently asking Suga’s forgiveness.

 _Completely_ different than holding a volleyball.

The JSS is just coming into view. As Kageyama crouches, he feels it surge through him, that electricity just before a key toss. That certainty, when he knows exactly where the ball will go. When his aim is dead on.

_(Kageyama, cover!)_

He jumps, pushing forward. Daichi’s body flies into the vacuum: no spin, completely on target, threading his way through the falling chunks of rock and ice.

 _– Holy shit. –_ Kuroo’s voice is amazement itself, breaking the shocked silence, and Noya is whooping in the background.

Kageyama is back on the wing from the push back. There’s familiar warmth deep in his chest, butterflies and fire. He starts to turn to grin behind him, the instinct to meet Hinata’s eyes in triumph unexpectedly strong, even after all these years.

He is alone on the Hinomaru’s wing. But Kageyama can’t shake the feeling that somehow, somewhere, Hinata is cheering him on from the sidelines.

 

Suga, back in control, gets on the Kageyama’s line and begins walking him through the process of manually opening the shuttle doors and entry into the Soyuz while Ennoshita handles coordinating the evacuation for the others.

By the time Kageyama is inside, repressurized, de-suited, and past startup procedures (he silently thanks Lev for the extra Russian tutoring), the CSV had already separated from the station and started escape maneuvers.

Kageyama’s own escape goes fairly smoothly, with only a few hard impacts as he boosts away, mostly to the orbital module, he thinks, which suits him just fine.

He jettisons that module, along with the propulsion, 30 minutes after the deorbit burn.

“Suga, both modules are detached. Time to entry interface?”

_– About 10 minutes, due to the necessary course alterations. Kageyama...there’s no way I can repay you for wh-- –_

“Wait one, Suga...”

There’s a red light blinking at him from the console. No alarm, just a silent, red pulsing.

He knows the Cyrillic characters. He knows the translation: Heat Shield Failure _._

_No fucking way._

He stares at it, the silent pulsing, waiting for it to sink in.

Part of him wants a laugh, at the absurdity of it all. Some kind of bad joke. The cherry to top off the burning-disaster-sundae his life has become.

And the other part...

He feels the tension flow from his body, his breath slipping out in a tired sigh.

_– Ohmygod...Tobio-- –_

“I see it, Suga,” he interrupts “It must of gotten impacted sometime during my escape...or maybe even before I boarded.”

_– No! There’s got to be something-- –_

“I think...I think I have to break my promise to you. ”

_– This isn’t...you can’t--! –_

He can hear the tears in Suga’s voice.

“There’s no propulsion, Suga, and the thrusters aren’t powerful enough to stop this trajectory. You said 10 minutes?”

He hears a small sob on the other end, he takes that as an affirmative.

Kageyama lets escape another long, resigned sigh. He thought he was ready for this... “I don’t have much time to say goodbyes, do I? Suga, how are Daichi and the rest? Are they safe? Can you patch me through?”

_– They began reentry a few minutes ago. Several TDR satellites were knocked out by the strike, so comms are down. They won’t emerge from communication blackout until after...um... –_

“Yeah. Yeah. Copy that. Suga...let them know I’m glad they’re okay. I don’t have anyone waiting for me down there, not anymore. It’s better, if it’s just me...it’s better this way.”

He draws in a tired breath. This isn’t supposed to be so hard...

“Tell them it was fun...playing with them...to have had them mean so much in my life. Suga...you too. You and Daichi take care of those two girls of yours, okay? I know they won’t remember me...but tell them to grow up as strong and wonderful as their parents. And tell Asahi to hurry up and propose. Noya’s been growing impatient and...well...time is a precious thing.”

Both of them are trying to keep their voices steady, but even held back there are tears in their words.

“Um...Suga...can you tell both Kenma and Natsu...” he has to pause, squeeze his eyes shut and wait for his voice to stop wavering, “Tell both of them I love them...and that I’ll say ‘hey’ for them...Tell them I’ll say ‘hey’, when I see Shouyou.”

He can hear Suga sniffling in the background, coming to pieces. _– I’ll...I’ll tell them... –_

“Suga...I’m...I’m going to cut the O2. With any luck I’ll be completely out before...well...”

Another sob over the line.

_– Tobio...I’m glad I got to know you. I’m glad we all did. Both of you. It wouldn’t have been the same, without both of you... –_

“I know. I know. You’re family, Suga. You all are.” He closes his eyes tightly again. “I love all of you so much. Take care of each other, okay? Time is too short for regrets. All of you...take care of each other.”

_– We...we will...I’ll tell them, and we will... –_

The silence following is expected. ‘Goodbye’ seems far too weak of a word, now. That’s not how either of them wants this to end. Kageyama reaches for the comms.

_– Tobio? –_

His finger hovers above the switch. “Yeah, Suga.”

_– Tell Shouyou ‘hey’ from me too... –_

“Copy, Suga. I’ll tell him.”

*click*

 

The silence following is surreal. There are no more words to be said. Nothing more to be done.

Well. One thing.

Kageyama reaches forward and twists the O2 feed knobs, disabling the warning system after a moment’s thought.

And there we go. That’s that.

He unstraps himself from his chair, drifts into one of the two passenger seats facing each other, a retrofit to accommodate a 4th passenger. The seat isn’t much more comfortable than the two command chairs, but without an instrument panel in his face, he does have more room

The resulting silence as the air feeds cycle down is anything but comforting. It’s...tired. Resigned. Or perhaps that’s just him projecting. He rests his head back staring at nothing, hoping, fearing, in the quiet. His thoughts drift out slow into the stillness.

_Shouyou?_

_Shouyou, are you out there? Somewhere? Waiting for me?_

_Am I still connected to you?_

_Will I ever see you again?_

_What if I’ve changed too much, after all this time, what if you no longer know me?_

_What if you’re not there waiting at all?_

_What if there’s nothing after, what if this is really the end?_

_Will I ever hold you again?_

_I’m scared, Shouyou..._

_I want to see you again..._

 

His eyes are drooping, now. The dwindling O2 slowing him down, easing him down. He thinks he dozes off, almost, tired eyelids descending, then flicking gently open, and descending...

And then with a jolt, he is fully awake, wide-eyed and staring at the occupant in the seat across from him.

_(the sun itself is in his hair)_

“Hinata?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And finally the toughest chapter is out of the way (this plus the last used to be a single chapter). While not perfect, it's good enough, and the last two chapters have been finished and waiting their turn for far too long. 
> 
> Thanks to those who are still following along, the last two chapters should make their way here within the week.


End file.
